Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 196: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

. ‘ vy r 80 vy for either a song, a sentiment, a recitation, | J : ay he placed the glass before Mr. Ogle. ona | or a speech.” — ms! Spontaneous ‘and voluntary,” the waiter, slinking back into his corner, and feasting upon the wit of the company, that being the on y kind of food he was likely . to regale upon till the evening, he having | agreed to board himself, and that being the only part of his contract with his landlord which he was not scr upulously called upon to perform. “ Well, then,” said Mr. Ogle, “if I must do something to amuse you, I think I have the means cut and dried to hand. Here is a Valentine which a person of my acquaint- ance wrote last February to his Mistress,” ith these words, and having the con- sent of all present, Mr. Ogle took a paper from \his pocket, and ‘Tead; the ensuing effusion, :— ny VALENTINE. It ain’t no vonder if my arts a cinder— Cos vy your eyes is bright as burning ashes ; My buzzimn’s jist for all the vorld like tinder, My soul is shivered toa thousand smashes. That night ve vent to Bagnigge Vells together, You wos so very pretty though you pouted, Cos ven ve couldn’t valk in sich bad veather, To get ashay your necihege:-| spouted. et _ Don’t say I prig’d your vatoneer can’t a-bear it, _, I merely lent it to my father’s brother ;— You need'nt be afeard that he vill vear it— Besides, on tick, I soon can get another. You know how very fond lam of you, my dear— Don’t stand so often at the kitchen vindy : _ Pm wery much afeard you love that Jew dear— But if you does—G—! von’t I make a pounds § You are my Walatitte—T’ ve often : swore it; But-if you hadn’t lent me all your vages, Your conduct was so bad, none could ha’ borne it-- 3 Besides the little difPrence i in. our hages, Make haste and tell me ven you wish to marry— Cos ’m yourman,—you can’t desireno better. _ Ven you replies—in case it should mis-carry, You’d better pay the postage of the letter. “ This is really a poetic morning,” observed Mr. Bones, when the recitative was brought toa conclusion. “What with the gin, the we, the cigars, and the poetry, one would really think we were the Muses in disguise ?” : “ Another glass of grog, John,” cried Mr. Ocle. ome an open pane of glass, looking into : and when he thought it might be l resnyd lazily proceeded to fetch ‘It, and mix it in a tumbler with sugar, de, “ Six- an | and “A go of gin!” shouted the waiter, a PICK WICK ABROAD. h ‘pence, if you please, Sir,” said the waiter, as “Oh! presently—presently,” © exclaimed that gentleman. “I want change for a five.” “T only vishes as how I could keep a five pun’ note as long as you does” said the waiter dogg edly; “for to my certain know- ledge you've vanted change for. that 7 von upwards of three year.” ” | “ Nonsense—nonsense,” cried Mr. Oplew and after a great deal of reluctance’ he pro- duced a sixpence from his pocket, and sur- rendered it with a deep sigh into the waiter’s hands, at the same moment that another eentleman entered the room. ; “Ah! Crashem, my dear fellow, how are you?” cried the new-comer. | “ Well, this is a blessing to get a sight of you! Now— don’t do as you did in Paris when we met at Meurice’s! You must recollect your old school-fellow Tims,” added the new-comer, in asarcastic tone of voice. “Tims! Tims!” said Captain Walsing- ham, to whom the foregomg adjurations were all addressed, and on whose cheek they produced the same effect that is usually caused by a strong acid on a red gown: “really, my dear Sir—you must—you are— you cannot be otherwise’ than epee ys Mr. Tims made no other answer than by utting his fore-finger up to his left eye, and ‘considerably agitating the under lid—a graceful motion, which in fashionable ‘society denotes incr edulity, it being deemed ungen- teel to give the he in any terms of a more direct nature. * “Crashem, did you say | cried Captain Walsingham, after a moment's reflection: “Crashem! I must have known that name somewhere!” and be winked si to Mr. Tims. ee eae “ Come now, none of that nonseri ex claimed Mr. Tims, “for whether your name is Sugden, Crashem, or any thing else, I know you to be a th aud rogue ; and since you prey upon friends, I shall not stand it any longer. You swindled me out of. ny pounds in Paris—” i‘. “Ah!” ejaculated Master Peter “Certainly, ‘he did,” continmed th Mr. Tims: “and what is more, his real name is Sugden, and his father keeps the Lanthorn, at tavern in the Borough.” — “Waiter!” cried the assailed, in a faint tone X man mad ?” | “Mad !” exlaimed Mr. Tims : f yes—mad enough to lend you forty pounds to bring out at of voice, “is this so? (C@) [HOO (CO) SS